


Happy Birthday, Birdie

by taketheblanket



Series: Playing House [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cor tops, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Penetrative Sex, Sex Toys, This fic uses "pussy" and "cunt" for a transmale character, Trans Prompto, age gap, birthday fic, butt plug, prompto tops, strap on, take turns bottoming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taketheblanket/pseuds/taketheblanket
Summary: The Marshal gives his young lover three presents for his birthday.





	Happy Birthday, Birdie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place during the events of Cream & Sugar. Please read the tags before you begin! Enjoy.

Jogging up the alleyway, Prompto turns sideways to squeeze past Cor’s double parked SUV. Listening to the sound of Noctis and his keepers drive off, he unlocks the door and slides inside.

Prompto’s ears are pricked as he enters the little house. He toes out of his sneakers and lines them up next to Cor’s leather dress shoes, which are so large they take up the entire space Prompto usually leaves reserved for his parents.

“Cor, you _gotta_ park around the block,” he says, hanging his bag by the door. “Someone’s gonna recognize your car someday.”

“I turned on Do Not Disturb like you told me to,” he speaks from further inside.

”No.. not— _Cor,_ “ Prompto laughs, hanging his school blazer beside his bag. “No wonder you weren’t answering my texts. I tried to warn you I was getting a ride home so you'd hide the car if you beat me here.”

“Why, who brought you home?” he asks.

His voice carries from the living room and Prompto moves towards him. He stops in the kitchen to drink from the faucet, spit a mouthful of water back in the sink.

“Ignis. And Gladio,” he says.

Cor grunts thoughtfully.

“They’ve got secrets of their own,” he says after a pause.

“True,” Prompto says, nodding.

Cor is right, of course. Ignis and Gladio are no threat. Prompto had been privy to Noctis’ secret relationship with Ignis (and more recently Gladio) for almost as long as it had been going on. Noct’s casual approach to sex with his sworn servants was largely a part of what gave Prompto the confidence to pursue Cor in the first place. Though Prompto shares with him many details of his relationship with the Marshal of the Crownsguard, Noctis doesn’t seem to share Prompto’s loose lips. Until perhaps tonight, Ignis and Gladio remained none the wiser to their superior’s illicit affair. Prompto, on the other hand, spilled the beans about Noctis and his retainers as soon as he could get Cor’s attention long enough to tell him.

Prompto pauses at the edge of the kitchen, pressing the back of his hands against his face and bouncing on his toes.

“What’s keeping you, kid?” Cor asks.

Prompto takes a deep breath and steps into the next room.

What began as a relationship of lewd photographs and filthy SMS had finally turned physical a few weeks ago, but it is still surreal to come home and find Cor sitting on his couch. For many years, Prompto considered him an uncle figure, exchanging awkward phone calls on holidays when Cor checked on Prompto and his adoptive family. When he was twelve, Prompto turned to Cor in a moment of dysphoric desperation, and Cor bought him his first binder and packer, guided Prompto and his parents through the difficult and pivotal conversation to follow. The soft spot in his heart for the older man continued to grow, but it wasn’t until high school and a budding friendship with the Heir Apparent that Prompto was put properly in Cor’s path.

“There he is,” Cor says, a warm smile on his smart lips. “The birthday boy.”

Cor watches him cross the living room now like he always watched him then, across the Citadel courtyard, eyes wide and steady, like he can’t help but look, like his resting state is simply “eyes on Prompto.” Although he has gotten a little more used to that expression in the close quarters of privacy, the look still affects Prompto the same way, always sends jolts of electricity through his veins to stand beneath his gaze.

“You look pretty tonight, birdie.”

Prompto looks down at himself, rumpled school uniform, blazer abandoned, neck tie loosened. He shoves his sleeves back up to his elbows and smiles in a self deprecating way. Cor is obviously the one that looks like a snack, sitting back on the couch with his suit and shirt half-open and his thick thighs spread, blocky fingers clutched around a wet glass.

“Pet names,” Prompto laughs, eyeing the bottle of scotch on the table. “Are you drunk already?”

“Had a drink or two,” Cor replies.

Prompto smiles, crawling into Cor’s lap and plucking the glass from his hand. He brings it to his lips when Cor growls from beneath him.

“One sip,” he instructs.

Prompto takes two.

“Beautiful boy,” Cor praises, despite his disobedience. His big hands are already on Prompto’s hips, sneaking beneath his untucked shirt to drag cold fingertips over his stomach. Cor begins to undress him, one hand popping open the buttons of his shirt while the other unzips his pants. Prompto let’s out a small laugh; all it took was straddling Cor’s thighs, arching his back. He is as easy now as he was the first time Prompto let his hand linger on Cor’s waist in passing at the Palace. He smirks in victory as he’s jostled beneath Cor’s influential hands.

“A boy like you makes a man feel weak,” he murmurs, reading Prompto’s thoughts aloud as he pushes his shirt open. The material falls to his elbows, exposing his freckled shoulders and chest, prickling his skin with gooseflesh.

“Hm hm,” Prompto giggles. The air is cold but the scotch settles warm in his belly. He squeezes Cor’s impressive biceps beneath his small hands. “Disagree.”

While Cor appreciates Prompto’s bare torso with open lips, his stubbled jaw, Prompto runs his fingers over his buzzed scalp, and then pulls Cor’s phone from his coat pocket and toggles off Location Services, before setting it aside. While Cor is distracted, making wet sounds where he licks at his nipples, Prompto snags the glass of scotch from him again and takes a few more sips. He sets the empty glass aside and lays his hands over the shape of Cor’s growing erection beneath his jeans.

“What did you bring me for my birthday, _Marshal_?”

“More than just that,” he answers gruffly, pressing his cock up against Prompto’s hands. “Pet names,” he says warmly. “Are _you_ drunk, Lolita?”

Prompto hiccups, grins, nods.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Cor whispers to himself, grabbing Prompto by the hips and dragging him further into his lap, so both men may grind their sex together through the layers of their clothing.

“I feel like I’ve given you enough ideas.”

“Too many.”

Suddenly, Prompto finds himself being lifted and turned, sat backwards in Cor’s lap so he may present to his young lover the three gift bags on table, like some sort of sexy Santa Claus. Cor’s hands still firm on his waist, Prompto tilts his hips back to roll his cunt against the bulging mass of Cor’s desire.

“For me?” Prompto asks coyly.

“This one first,” Cor tells him, gesturing at a small bag with one hand, the other holding Prompto steady as he ruts up into his concealed velvet. Prompto lets slip a small moan at the motion.

Tentatively, Prompto lifts the bag. It’s heavy. He blushes a little. Though he should be comfortable by now with the shower of expensive gifts that comes along with an older, Royal affair, Prompto still has to remind himself that Cor likes to spoil him, doesn’t do it out of pity. He reaches inside the bag and in it finds a heavy metal object. Round and smooth, it settles into his palm like an egg. Prompto lifts it from the tissue paper, examining the metal tear drop, the red crystal that caps the stem.

Prompto thinks he knows what he’s looking at, but it’s Cor’s next words that confirm his cautious excitement.

“It’s time to fill you up properly, pretty boy.”

Cor rolls his cock into Prompto’s spread thighs once more, and with a breathy gasp, Prompto’s hand shuts around the plug.

—

On his hands and knees on the sofa, Prompto watches over his shoulder while Cor probes his openings with two fingers, a tongue. Growing impatient, Prompto opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a broken cry as Cor curls his fingers to stroke at the sensitive spot on his inner walls.

“ _Ah--!_ Cor…” he manages, all the way pressing himself back onto Cor’s face, feeling his ass cheeks spread around his stubbled jaw.

Cor pulls pack and they peer at each other over the roundness of Prompto’s ass. He raises his eyebrows.

“What is it?” Cor asks.

“Can we… move along?” Prompto asks, his eyes flitting between the swell of Cor’s erection beneath his clothes, the shiny silver plug perched on the coffee table.

Cor grunts. He stands upright, his hands falling away from Prompto as he does.

“Alright,” he says, reaching for the plug and a bottle of lube. “Let’s get you dressed then.”

“It feels good!” Prompto says, suddenly worried he’s upset the older man. “I just wanna play with my new toy.”

Cor smirks at him fondly.

“Fair enough,” he replies.

They haven’t really done this, aside from an occasional exploratory finger. Cor sits down on the couch and instructs Prompto to mount him backwards. Prompto is entirely nude in his lap, but Cor remains clothed, his shirt partially open and his sports coat abandoned. Prompto’s eager cunt leaves wet trails of enthusiasm on his slacks as he rocks forward, presenting his asshole for Cor’s inspection, his hands flat on the coffee table for support. He stares down at two yet unwrapped gifts, each bearing a tag with a handwritten “P” and a sloppy heart. Prompto’s stomach flutters at little as he tries to imagine what else Cor could have possibly gotten him.

A moment later, Cor presses two wet fingertips against Prompto’s tight rim and any thoughts he was having dissolves into the white noise of sensual touch.

Cor doesn’t penetrate. Not exactly. He probes at Prompto’s second hole, sinking no deeper than the first joint with both of his thick fingers. It burns a little, as Cor pulls on the muscular ring, stretching him open, but it is more indulgent than uncomfortable and Prompto drops a hand between his thighs to rub his cock a few times, helping to magnify the pleasure. He moans, and Cor’s hips jerk up involuntarily, grinding his trapped cock into the thatch of dark golden hair just above Prompto’s dripping cunt.

Suddenly, Cor brings the the plug to Prompto’s hole and the metal meets his heated skin like an icy kiss. His free-hand comes to Prompto’s ass, spreading him open with a firm grip on the meat of his glutes. Prompto hisses with surprise, but finds himself pressing back into the sensation regardless. Cor begins to apply steady, unrelenting pressure.

“Shit!” he gasps, a flare of panic blooming in his belly. “Cor, Cor.”

Cor’s left hand softens it’s grip, massing Prompto’s ass cheek, rubbing tenderly over the thin divots his fingernails had left behind.

“Does it hurt, Pretty Bird?”

“No... Yes,” Prompto answers breathlessly. “But don’t stop.”

He continues to apply pressure, and slowly, Prompto feels his body opening up, spreading around the cold steel, stretching further and further. Sharp bursts of pain shoot up his spine as he reaches the widest part of the plug, and just when Prompto is certain he has to ask Cor to stop, his body suddenly swallows the toy with ease. His hole clenches tight around the narrow stem, red crystal nestled neatly in the cleft of his ass. His cunt feels hot, wet and swollen with excitement from the experience already. His pulse hammers in his short, stiff cock.

He lets out a ragged breath and moves to sit up, but one of Cor’s big hands lands on his lower back, keeping him folded over the coffee table. When he glances over his shoulder, Prompto watches Cor take a picture with his phone, Prompto’s plugged hole pointed at the lens. His eager cunt is almost as red as the crystal cap and Cor smirks. When he is finished, he sets his phone aside, both of his hands comes to rest on Prompto’s waist and help him sit upright in his lap.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“I’m ready for more,” he replies, looking over his shoulder.

Cor sighs. Prompto knows he doesn’t like to be rushed, but if he didn’t rush Cor, they’d be here all night. If it hadn’t been for Prompto’s aggressive pleading, the man would have waited for his twenty-fifth birthday before consummating their relationship. Prompto has always been the cracking whip behind his pseudo-uncle’s uncertainties.

And right now, spread open on his gift, awash with his affections, Prompto desperately wants his cock.

He stands, using one of Cor’s big hands for support as he experiments with standing, the toy still buried in his ass. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch and Cor follows.

One handed, Cor unfastens his belt and produces his erection, suit pants falling to a dark pool at his feet. His muscular thighs twitch, his cock jumps as he takes it in his hand. Leaning against the arm of the sofa, Prompto purposefully grinds on the plug. Cor stands just out of reach, and they look back at each other. As always, the sight of him undressed takes Prompto’s breath away, and for a moment, he is taken back to when their relationship was digital. Look but don’t touch.

With a smirk, Prompto hoists a leg onto the couch, pressing his foot into the upholstery and presenting his spread thighs for Cor’s viewing. The cool air hits his wet cock, his slick hole and Prompto watches Cor, who is just drunk enough that he cannot hide the blatant hunger on his face.

“ _Astrals,_ kid,” he grumbles. Mock disappointment. Cor likes when he acts like a slut. He is opening a condom, rolling it over his thick length, his dark eyes still tasting Prompto between his folds.

Prompto slips to his feet once more, turning around lightly and folding himself in half over the arm of the couch. He turns his cunt up towards Cor, and the motion rocks the plug in his second hole. The sensation is new but welcome. He moans sweetly in surprise.

“F-fuck me, Marshal,” he says breathlessly. “You gotta finish filling me up.”

“Don’t I…” Cor says mostly to himself, closing the distance between himself and his young lover with one large step. The head of his cock sinks into the cleft of his wet hole, but he does not yet penetrate. His hands explore Prompto’s round ass, placing a few heavy taps on the plug, somehow making the toy feel heavier, his knees weaker. Prompto rocks backwards, swallowing his stiff length to the halfway point, earning a strangled groan from Cor’s, his hands flying to Prompto’s thin hips, his grip bruisingly strong.

“You impatient little slut,” Cor growls.

Prompto gasps softly with glee. He loves making Cor talk like this, but it usually takes a little badgering to get there. He wags his hips, whining when his hard cock angles inside of him, pressing against his soft walls.

“It’s my biiiiiiirthday,” Prompto chimes. “And I can cry if I want to.”

Cor laughs, genuine and hearty. His painful grip loosens, petting his fingertips tenderly over Prompto’s hip bones. He reaches between his legs and rubs his short cock and finishes the job of sliding his cock inside of his lover. Prompto cries out raggedly at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Cor leans over his back and there is enough size difference between them that he can keep his cock buried deeply inside of Prompto and whisper in his ear at the same time.

“I have an idea for all of that initiative of yours, soldier.”

Prompto tips his face against Cor’s, relishing in the feeling of his stubbled jaw along his smooth neck. He pants through his open mouth, his thighs trembling while Cor plays with his erection.

“Tell me, tell me,” Prompto says.

“After you finish,” he says, slowly standing upright while rolling his hips against Prompto’s plush ass.

“ _Cor--,_ ” he moans.

Cor begins to pump into Prompto, and any protest he had left dissolves into whimpers and whines. With both hands on his hips, he bounces Prompto’s body against his thighs, pounding deeply into him with wet slaps that ring out into the quiet night. Cor always feels big inside of him, but tonight is different. With the plug already taking up so much space, it feels like Cor’s cock could split him open. To be utterly filled by him is so good, so decadent, that Prompto’s knees give out until he is collapsed over the arm of the sofa, just his tip toes brushing over the ground as Cor rolls into him.

“Alright, birdie?” Cor asks him, his voice gruff through his pleasure.

“So… fu-full,” Prompto answers shakily. “It’s so good, Marshal.”

Looking over his shoulder, Prompto can tell it’s good for Cor too. He must feel tighter around his cock, because his brows are furrowed in concentration, and his mouth hangs slack while he breathes heavily. Prompto appreciates his pink cheeks, his dark, glittering eyes for a moment longer before he faces the couch cushions once more, allowing himself the freedom to reach between his legs and take his own cock in hand.

“I feel so good,” Prompto tells him. “I wanna cum for you.”

“You’ve never waited for permission before.”

Prompto groans, a smile on his lips as he begins to tug at his cock, pleasure blooming there to pulse through his entire body. Cor humps into him from behind, his own loan groans trickling forth every few thrusts. So tight, Prompto can feel his cock throbbing against his soft, wet walls.

He finds his edge in moments, Cor fucking him at a relentless pace, the plug stretching him wide. The Marshal does not stop moving when Prompto begins to peak. He replaces Prompto’s hand on his cock with his own, stroking him with an expert touch. Prompto cums three times in rapid succession, each generous moan broken apart by the rhythm of Cor’s pounding.

Face in the couch, drooling on the cushions, Prompto just barely manages to turn his head and watch Cor over his shoulder as he pulls out of him and rips his condom off. Prompto watches his face affectionately as Cor’s concentrated expression melts into pleasure. Cor groans deeply and Prompto can feel his hot seed dripping down the plug to pool around the rim of his stuffed hole. Prompto shudders, goosebumps prickling over his skin as their sweat begins to cool.

With Cor’s spent cock laying against Prompto’s inner thigh, he gestures towards the second gift.

\---

Still feeling somewhat breathless, Prompto reaches into the second bag. Pushing aside tissue paper, Prompto pulls from the bag two items: a black leather harness and a red, silicone cock.

He knows exactly what he’s looking at, he knows exactly what it is for, but Prompto cannot move. He stares down at the strap on, not pulled from his trance until Cor rattles the coffee table with his heavy foot planted on the surface. Hairy ass pointed at Prompto’s face, he pulls on cheek aside to show off a the glint of a plug nestled into his asshole. Prompto gasps, looking up at the lewd presentation in shock.

“It’s time for a little boy to become a man,” Cor announces.

Prompto squeaks indignantly, and then attempts to swallow the sound. Cor lowers his leg from the table, smirking down at his young, red-faced lover.

“Go on,” he tells him. “Go put it on.”

His mouth dry, Prompto rises from the couch and moves towards the bathroom. He listens to the sound of Cor uncorking the bottle of scotch, liquid splashing in the bottom of his glass.

He appreciates the privacy of the restroom to wrestle with the harness for a bit, grateful that he doesn’t have to look foolish in front of Cor.

Once he manages to untangle it, Prompto steps into the leather circle and lifts it to his hips. The rubber cock bobs heavily from his groin, and some unspeakable feeling erupts in Prompto’s chest.

Now shaking, he tightens the straps until the harness is snug, clinging to his body and moving as part of him. With electricity in his toes, Prompto spins to face the mirror, wraps a tentative hand around the red length and studies himself. The harness squeezes his waist, lifts his ass. Maybe it’s too tight, but Prompto likes the way the leather bites his skin. And while Prompto doesn’t suffer much dysphoria anymore (not since Cor), it is still remarkable and thrilling to see the shape of himself with a full-sized cock. Prompto spits in his palm and strokes it, moaning softly as the base of the toy grinds up against his own stiff cock beneath the harness.

“Alright?” Cor calls from the living room.

“Ye-eah,” Prompto responds, his voice cracking. He takes one last look at himself in the mirror. He feels amazing, wearing Cor’s gifts inside of him (he clenches the plug in his ass) , and on him (he strokes the red cock eagerly). And now, he’ll get to wear Cor in another way. Prompto giggles with excitement. “I’m great,” he says, only to himself this time, before exiting the bathroom with haste.

He steps into the hallway, finds Cor waiting patiently on the couch, fully nude and nursing a glass of amber booze.

“Damn, baby. Don’t you look good.”

Prompto stops in front of him, breathless, but unable to stop stoking the long stuff shaft frantically through his palm, every pump sending another flare of pleasure through his belly.

Cor stands up, finishes his scotch with a single swallow and accidentally clunks the glass against the table as he moves to set it back down. Prompto’s eyes skip over Cor’s body, admiring his broad muscled chest with its generous pelt, his toned abdomen and the thick trail of hair that bisects the V of his hips, leading straight down to his spent cock, half hard with anticipation. Prompto can feel his own cock beneath the harness throbbing with desire. And then the Marshal turns around and Prompto is greeted with the sight of his hairy ass once more. He climbs onto the sofa, in his knees with his thighs spread and his prepared hole pointed in Prompto’s direction.

He tries to swallow, but his mouth feels like it is full of sand. He eyes the empty cup of scotch on the table and wishes Cor had left him a sip.

Cor whistles at him and Prompto’s eyes snap back to his partner. The Marshal is watching him over his shoulder and he reaches for the bottle of scotch on the end table, and pours Prompto a nip all while Cor’s bare, plugged ass is aimed for his red, rubber cock. It’s becoming apparent that Cor is pretty drunk, since he’s smiling and humming to himself while he prepares his young lover’s drink. Despite his palpable anxiety regarding the loss of this particular virginity, Prompto finds himself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Suddenly, Prompto is struck with the thought of Noctis. He wonders how the prince and his retainers are spending their Friday night. He imagines what Noct or Gladio or Ignis would say if they saw their fear-inspiring Marshal now, drunk and bent over, awaiting penetration, and Prompto is laughing full voice now. In an instant, all of his uncertainty seems to wash away, but he seems to have transferred it to Cor, who studies him with a concerned expression.

“I’m good,” Prompto tells him, squeezing the cock in his right hand. “I’m great.”

He closes the distance between Cor and himself, laying his small hands on either side of Cor’s peachy backside. His rubber cock bumps up against Cor’s balls and the older man grunts softly in surprise. Eager to hear more, Prompto reaches forward and slips the plug from his hole. Cor sighs with relief.

With an execution that seems almost practiced, Prompto takes the glass from Cor and swallows his drink while Cor lubes up Prompto’s cock. The younger man moans in surprise as he looks down at the process. Though he can’t exactly feel the Marshal’s big hand tugging at the red silicone, he sorta can. He feels the base of the dildo bump up against cock beneath the harness that pulls at his hips, and the sight alone of Cor working he stiff shaft that protrudes from his groin satisfies something deep inside of Prompto he has never accessed before. He takes another swallow but then sets the glass down without finishing it. Cor’s hole flutters with the desire to be filled and Prompto’s head is starting to spin.

“Go on, boy,” Cor says when he releases him. He leans his forearms on the back of the couch and spreads his knees another few inches in order lower himself to Prompto’s height. “I want you to take me.”

Prompto takes one halting breath, and guides the red tip to Cor’s waiting hole.

It takes more pressure than he expects, and he’s a little worried he’s going to hurt Cor, but the sounds coming from him as Prompto’s cock slowly breaches him are nothing but delectable. Low rumbling encouragement and gruff moans inspire Prompto to keep learning, keep pushing, watching with fascination as Cor’s body swallows every inch of the red dick. He studies the span of Cor’s strong back, little twitches here and there in the muscle, a winking dimple appears on his low back as he clenches his hole around Prompto’s intrusion.

“There you go, birdie, you know what to do.”

Slowly, at first, Prompto begins to pump into him, moving his hips just slightly to drag the cock back and forth, watching Cor’s stretched rim take him. And then, not so slowly, Prompto finds his rhythm and discovers he cannot stop. His fingernails dig into skin where he grips Cor’s hips, pulling himself deeply into his hole with fast and steady thrusts. Cor groans, his head falling forward to rest on the back of the couch and Prompto moans, his body on fire as the motion of fucking Cor grinds the harness up against his desperate cock.

And maybe because it is orgasm number four, maybe because swinging his hips like this feels completionary in a way he can’t quite describe, but when Prompto cums it is a surprise, and it tears through his body, a deep tremble, a low growl escaping his mouth as he falls still, his dick buried as deeply into Cor as he can manage to shove it.

“Roll over,” Prompto breathes to him.

“What’s that?” Cor asks, his voice just as soft through his heavy panting.

“Roll over,” he repeats, louder this time.

The two men part, only briefly. Just long enough for the Marshal to flip over on the couch. He hooks his legs over the arm of the sofa, one foot propped up to give Prompto room as he re-enters him. Now they can look at each other, and they do, their eyes meeting in a way that sends electricity shooting up Prompto’s spine. He buries his cock into Cor once more with little warning, watching with fascination as the Marshal throws his head back on the couch with a gasp, his long stubbled neck on display.

Prompto begins to fuck him once more, and Cor wraps one leg around his back, his toes stroking over Prompto’s shoulder blades like an encouraging touch. He takes the cue to fuck him harder, and Prompto begins to put a little muscle behind his thrusts. Cor’s hands clench at the couch cushions, his soft cock beginning to harden again as Prompto’s cock slams into him. The sound of their bare skin slapping together echoes through the house once more, but this time it is Prompto doing the fucking, and though it’s currently happening, he still can hardly believe it.

Cor looks serene in a way Prompto has never seen him. His eyes are half open, glassy where he watches Prompto. He looks fond and flushed. His mouth is parted where sounds of pleasure occasionally slip, and Prompto begins to work for those sounds, angling his thrusts in different directions until Cor’s brows knot in surprise and the soft groans transform to desperate whines.

Suddenly, Cor erupts, clutching his cock in his hand but not pumping it, dribbling cum as he peaks for the second time. The sight of Cor climaxing because of Prompto’s cock enough to drive him wild, and the smaller man collapses over him as he chases a fifth orgasm, humping hard and fast into Cor until his knees give out and he cums, spilling generously onto the floor beneath him.

\--

A little while later, Prompto and Cor are spooning on the couch, recovering from their coupling. Cor breaks the lazy, aimless kiss to nod at the coffee table.

“You’ve got one more present to open.”

Prompto rolls over Cor’s arms to peer at the final gift, a medium-sized box, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with a dramatic bow. It sits on the coffee table between two stainless steel plugs and the leather harness with the red cock. Prompton can hardly imagine, after all of this, what else there is to give him.

“I don’t know if I can have any more sex tonight,” he begins cautiously.

Cor guffaws before biting back his laughter and affectionately ruffling Prompto’s hair.

“This one isn’t for sex,” he promises.

Slowly, Prompto hauls himself upright. The chill of the air pricks goosebumps over his bare skin, and Cor drapes his sports coat over Prompto’s shoulders. He pulls the blazer around himself, drowning in the material, as he reaches forward and slides the box across the coffee table. It’s heavier than he expects, and he has to use two hands to bring the giftbox to his lap.

With the ribbon untied and the paper torn, Prompto is able to lift the lid to reveal a span of solid foam. Prompto peels back the top layer and gasps in shock to find a small black gun nestled neatly into the packaging. He stares at it, completely floored.

“It’s a 9mm subcompact. It might be little but it’ll pack a punch. Sort of like a little bird I know.”

Prompto looks at Cor, his mouth hanging open, unable to respond. Cor reaches around him to pull the handgun from the box, attempting to place it into Prompto’s trembling hands.

“I don’t know how to…”

“I’m going to teach you,” Cor promises, unfolding Prompto’s hands with his and placing the gun onto his palm. He wraps his much larger hand around Prompto’s encouraging him to hold the gun on his own.

It’s small, but it fits perfectly in his grip. Prompto hefts it for a moment, appreciating his weight, and then with a sudden and wicked grin, he lifts the gun to his eye level and slides his finger over the trigger, pointing it at the wall.

“No no,” Cor says, pulling his finger back off the trigger. “Never touch the trigger unless you plan to shoot.”

“Is it loaded?” Prompto asks.

“No, but you should pretend it is. I have bullets for it at the range. I’ll teach you how to clean it, load it, and shoot it. Tomorrow afternoon.”

He stares down at the weapon in awe. It’s beautiful and he loves the way it feels in his hand. He’s never shot a gun before, but just holding it makes him feel powerful in a way he couldn’t have expected, much like he felt when he put the cock and harness on.

“But… _why?_ ” he finds himself asking.

Cor hesitates for a few moments before he speaks, simply watching Prompto as he studies the handgun, turns it over and over in his hands and traces the details with his index finger. Prompto sneaks a glance at his face, and the Marshal looks somewhat troubled until he catches his young lover looking.

“I just want to make sure you can protect yourself,” Cor answers.

“From what?” Prompto asks.

“Don’t question your superior, soldier.”

Prompto laughs softly, the sentence juxtaposed to the memory of Cor cumming on his cock a mere twenty minutes earlier. Slowly, he sets the gun back into the box. Already, Prompto misses its weight in his palm. He briefly studies each of the gifts Cor has brought him, and deeply considers everything the man has given him over the years. A home, a family, a life. Financial support, confidence in his gender identity, protection from anyone that ever looked at him the wrong way. A cock, a gun, and, dare he think it? Maybe even love.

“Thank you,” he says, maybe a few minutes too late, his voice thick with emotion.

“Happy birthday, Prompto.”

 

 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I am @taketheblanket on twitter


End file.
